


Gloves

by ApostateRevolutionary



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Assisted Suicide, Canonical Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 06:54:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4867322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApostateRevolutionary/pseuds/ApostateRevolutionary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders had made Karl a promise, and he was going to keep it, no matter how much it hurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gloves

Anders was wearing gloves.

He made his way through the busy hallways of the hospital in a trance, trying to calm his breathing, to stop the shaking in his latex-covered hands as he moved towards the pharmacy. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t known this day would come, of course he had. But that knowledge didn’t make it any easier.

_“You will, won’t you? When the time comes?” Karl had asked, so many months ago. “I’d rather die than live like that.”_

_“I know.” Anders had answered, and he couldn’t deny that he would’ve felt the same as he took his lover’s hand in his, clasping tightly. “I will. I promise you, I will. When the time comes.”_

That promise had sealed him, and the doctor couldn’t bring himself to go back on it now, not when it truly mattered. Karl needed him, needed something only he could give. The past few months had been hell, for both of them, with Karl’s deteriorating condition, and Anders working himself haggard, having to watch his lover die while still trying to do something, _anything_ , even when he knew full well that the diagnosis was terminal. He’d become a doctor to help people, after all, and he’d done everything he could to help up till now, no matter how bad it got or how futile it was. And now there was only one thing left he could do for the man he loved.

It hurt like hell on the good days, but those were still the easier ones. The days when Karl was still Karl, and not just this sad, pained, unresponsive creature that seemed to take his place. The days when Karl would still smile whenever Anders entered his room, the days when he would reminisce, even the days when he would talk about all the things they weren’t going to get to do together. Even the painful knowledge that Anders would miss out on so much with the man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with because he was losing him before the age of thirty was the more welcome sort of pain.

Because all of that was better than the bad days. The days when Karl would scream for no apparent reason, when no assurances of ‘it’s alright, love’ would help, the man only calming when he was drugged into unconsciousness. The days when he was almost completely unresponsive, hollow eyes staring at nothing, or when he would babble incoherently. The days when Anders couldn’t see anything that remained of his lover in Karl’s pale, fragile body.

He tried to chase those thoughts away, and time seemed to slow as the counter came into view. It wouldn’t be much longer now. Anders nervously tugged on the edge of one of his gloves, silently praying to the Maker no one noticed he was wearing them when he had no clear reason to be.

Before he knew it, he was there, the words falling out of his mouth. Morphine. That’s what he needed. The blonde tried to look relaxed, leaning forward and drumming his fingers on the counter impatiently, the sound muffled by the layer of latex covering them. On any other day, he may have tried for a joke, or even just light, normal banter with the man behind the counter as he searched for the right drug. Not today, though. If it looked conspicuous, he didn’t care. There was nothing in him capable of making conversation right now.

And then the vial was before him, his gloved hand automatically taking it and slipping it into the pocket of his lab coat as he gave a swift ‘thanks’ and turned away. Anders’ name was linked to the drug, he knew that, but they would never be able to prove what he did with it. Everyone would know, but no one would ever be able to prove it. That was all that mattered.

The walk back was just as surreal. Images, memories he both longed to hold onto forever and wipe away completely, flitted through his mind. When they’d first met, just students in their undergrad, young and stupid and happy. The first time they’d kissed, a moment of pure joy and abandon after a particularly difficult exam. Anders had met up with Karl shortly afterward, nearly pouncing on the other man, unable to resist. And Karl had loved every second of it.

There were so many plans, so much they wanted to do. Travel. Settle down. Get some cats. Maybe even get married. He’d heard from a mutual friend that Karl had been shopping around for a ring. But then Karl had gotten his diagnosis and everything had come crashing down around them. He was given six months, but it had been eight. Eight months of tears and suffering and pain. Eight months of struggle and anguish that Anders couldn’t help but selfishly wish for more of.

Today had been one of the better days, an occurrence that was becoming rarer and rarer as time passed. Truthfully, Anders had worried there wouldn’t be another, that there’d never be a chance to say ‘I love you’ again and know Karl had heard it. That there’d never be a chance to say goodbye.

 _“It’s time.”_ Karl had whispered raspingly, not even ten minutes ago, and Anders hadn’t hesitated.

The blonde was so numb and lost in thought he hadn’t even realized he was back at Karl’s room already, his hands sweaty inside the gloves and the vial heavy in his pocket. It was time. He’d promised, fully meaning it, and now he had to go through with it.

Anders wasn’t ready yet, but he knew he never could be.

He opened the door, stepped inside, and closed the blinds. No one would see. No witnesses. He then moved to Karl’s side, running one covered hand over his brow affectionately.

“I’m here, love. Are you sure you’re ready?” Anders asked with a broken voice, part of him desperately wishing Karl would say no, would turn it all around.

But of course, he knew that wouldn’t happen, and the hoarse reply confirmed it. “I am.”

Anders nodded, and pulled out the vial. His gloved hands were surprisingly steady as he pulled what he knew was a lethal dose into the syringe. He glanced at Karl, saw the peace on his face, knowing relief from the pain was coming soon, and that was all the reassurance he needed. He took one deep breath, unhooked the computer monitoring Karl’s vital signs, slipped the needle into the IV tube, and pushed the plunger.

The blonde wasn’t moving slow anymore. He ripped one glove off, shoving it into his pocket, and knelt, clutching Karl’s hand with his bare one desperately.

“I’m… sorry.” Karl croaked, with difficulty. “Thank… you.”

“It’s okay, love. I know what you want. This is your choice. I would never take it away from you.” Anders said, trying to ignore the lump in his throat.

“I… love you.” Karl whispered, and Anders could see it wouldn’t be long now.

“I love you, too.” He whispered back, squeezing hard on Karl’s hand, wanting that to be the last sensation he felt. “I’ll never forget you.”

Karl smiled softly for a moment, meeting Anders’ gaze, and then he was gone. Anders stood, not quite willing to let go of Karl’s hand yet, and pressed a light kiss to his forehead while trying to ignore the single tear running down his cheek and the sob caught in his throat. The doctor gently closed Karl’s eyes, wiped his own, took a moment to collect himself, and then left the room. As much as he wanted to stay, to mourn like a proper lover should, he knew he couldn’t. Stiffly, he walked down the hall, simply trying get to a restroom far away from the room where Karl had just died without bursting into sobs before he got there. Because if they saw that, they’d know.

Anders had worn gloves so they couldn’t prove it was him, used a needle so it would be painless, but he swore he could still feel his lover’s blood on his hands.


End file.
